


If We Could

by kilambabe



Series: If We Could [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, Romance, Smut, Zayn Malik - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilambabe/pseuds/kilambabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I didn’t know how to feel. I never did after leaving behind time spent with him but what I did know was that I would give anything in that moment to feel what it was like to not know the absence of him and the ache of something I could never have, to not have to care about him and what he was unknowingly doing to me."</p><p>Poppy Reyes is confused, doubtful, and totally caught up in her feelings for Zayn Malik. Here we find her waking up next to Zayn, struggling between the guilt she feels as being "the other woman" and her growing feelings for the international star.</p><p>This prologue to If We Could introduces the pair in the midst or their new affair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If We Could

**Author's Note:**

> The draft of this prologue and the first chapter have been hiding away for ages on my laptop and with Zayn's departure still fresh and leaving me a little sore, I seriously thought about scrapping this whole idea away. It didn't take long for me to realize that I wanted to see where this pair would end up one day so I've decided to carry along, write as I please, and decide whether or not to incorporate Zayn's departure from the band in a later chapter (as I already have the plot planned up to chapter five). I just hope that you enjoy this pair as much as I do.

My eyes fluttered open and met the expanse of the white ceiling, a second later and it felt as if someone took an ice pick to my forehead and lightly tapped its end. “Fuck.” The mumbled word fell quietly from my dry lips as my left hand flew up and allowed my thin fingers to tangle themselves in the slightly damp, dark brown hair that stuck to the side of my face. My elbow lowered and I jumped slightly as it met the distinct form of another person’s bare and warm shoulder. As if a switch had been flicked on, flashes of blurred images whirred around my pounding head and reminded me of last night. I refrained from groaning and let my eyes fall shut as the body next me shifted and sighed, hopefully in _his_ sleep. _Again, again, not again_ , I repeated the mantra to myself as I fought to sharpen the blurred images that were still flashing behind my closed eyes.

All the hopeful wishing in the world couldn’t turn back time and take me out of this bed; this warm and all too damn familiar bed. I licked my lips as I saw myself, with tiny shot glass in hand, eyeing him from across the dimly lit and crowded room. I could find that boy— man in a blinding blizzard. A half-second later I saw him throwing that signature half smirk my way, that half smirk that was plastered all over the internet, looking at me from every angle and would probably always have the same effect on me, that half smirk that was a million times and over again more powerful in person.

 _Fuck him_ , I had thought in my mind and a handful of drunken and forgotten hours later that was exactly what I did. I’m horrible at holding my liquor. Two glasses of red wine was usually my limit, enough to make me warm and smiley, but that known fact hadn’t been enough to hold me back from downing one or two more shots than my body could handle properly. I would blame it on him, naturally. If I hadn’t seen him there and reminded myself over and over again with each knock back of my head during each fireball shot of how much I didn’t want to go back to him, find myself with him just to have something else to hide, I wouldn’t have been reminded of how good he felt. Now I was going to let myself groan.

I hated being here. I hated the color of the walls, the way the duvet rubbed against my skin, how stuffy the room always felt, but most of all I hated what lying in this bed meant and what it could mean to countless other people. It didn’t matter how much I hated everything though, it couldn’t outweigh the fact that no matter how hard I tried or how much I wanted to, I could never hate the person I was laying next to. What did it all mean though? To me, it meant that I was setting myself up for disappointment and hurt, possibly a label I could never shed, it meant that I was chasing something that would allow me to hold on to it long enough to get a sweet taste and then slip out of my feeble grasp whenever it felt like. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to hate to him and the more frustrated I became. With a sigh of defeat, I finally let my tired eyes open and turned to glance at him.

"Oh," I gasped quietly as my eyes met his. "Morning." I pushed the word out of my mouth as he held my gaze. How long had he been watching me fret over him? His long eyelashes brushed against the darker skin beneath his worn eyes as he blinked. His name was on the lips of millions of girls at any waking second and I couldn’t bring myself to say it in a proper setting but, admittedly, I could say it loud and clear when he prompted me to. Zayn Malik, that’s all that was needed to be said when describing this person to the public. Three simple syllables and the public already knew him… or at least they thought they did. This was maybe the third or fourth time I had found myself in his plush bed and I still couldn’t find the right words to describe him and I couldn’t even tell you what his favorite food was or what he liked to do on a rainy day.

"Mornin’." He mumbled as he moved off his side and adjusted himself on his back. The duvet moved off of his bare chest and let a few of his tattoos peak through, the stained lips in the middle of his chest just barely visible. My eyes picked at his messy hair, the stubble that pronounced his cheekbones, and the way his top teeth raked his bottom lip as he scratched the soft spot just below his ear. I didn’t want to move or speak as I willed this moment to stretch out and last as long as it could. These moments were negative in my mind, they seemed to be seconds that lasted for hours and were nothing but us just _being_. They didn’t matter at all and couldn’t be counted for anything but they were the moments I was most comfortable in. These negatives were the moments I could comfortably be myself in and even though I was laying in his bed in my underwear I wasn’t really doing anything worthy of being classified as acts of being the ‘other woman’. As I watched him release his lip from his teeth, I could tell what he was thinking and I knew what was going to come next. I would beat him to it. I didn’t want to hear the words because they were just another thing that I hated about this situation.

"It’s late, isn’t it?" I said as Zayn began to open his mouth to speak. We both looked towards the digital clock that rested on his bedside table to his left. The white digits glowed just a little past nine as I shimmied out of the blankets, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed and hopping down to the cold hardwood floor. It wasn’t late at all but it was Sunday and I supposed that we both had better things to attend to than each other and, I could never allow myself to forget, my time with him was always limited and incredibly strained. "Did we drive here or?" I asked as I bent over to pick up my dress. I held the thin fabric to my chest and looked over my shoulder. He was staring at me, sleep still evident in his eyes, with one arm resting behind his head. Seeing him like this, just coming out of his most vulnerable state, made me want to slide right back in bed with him and rest my head on his chest.

"Dunno." Zayn shrugged and sat up a little straighter, the blanket moved down more to display the rest of his winged lips. I nodded and turned to look straight ahead, still clutching the dress to my chest, and scanned the room for any signs of my heels. We had probably taken a cab or had one of his people drive us over. If either one of us had been driving then I couldn’t imagine how I would have been standing there right now, in my underwear, with one of the world’s biggest celebrities starring at my scantily clad ass. Deciding on calling a cab to take me back to my empty flat, I bent over once again and slid my legs into the top opening of the dress and pulled it up my legs by the thin straps. "Hey, Poppy?" The lazy voice that came from behind me met my ears as the dress met my waist. I looked over my shoulder and pulled the dress up about two inches more.

"Yes?" Our eyes met and I raised an eyebrow, wondering what more he had to say. I was already getting dressed to leave but maybe I needed to hurry or perhaps he was getting ready to make the ‘this can never happen again’ speech. The corners of Zayn’s lips twitched into a small smile and I felt my stomach flop, as butterflies seemed to fly about from the spot just below my navel. Another thing I hated, one smile and I felt like a schoolgirl who had just caught her crush smiling at her from across the way while sitting on the school bus home. I turned my body to face Zayn as he leaned over the spot on the bed that I had preoccupied and reached out a hand, palm up and fingers beckoning me to take a hold of them. I stared at them and sucked on my bottom lip, confused. He had never done this before and I had never expected it. I always made sure to not expect too much in order to keep my hopes down and on the safe side. 

"She’s not coming over today." _She._ We had never said her name, it was an unspoken agreement and it seemed to make things easier for the two of us. “And I’m going to be busy for the rest of the day.” _Busy with what?_ The way he raised an eyebrow along with a single corner of his mouth answered my question and I couldn’t help but to let my fingers find his waiting ones and intertwine our own digits together; _one, two, three, four,_ and the fifth one to really hold on to each other. He pulled gently and reached out with his free hand to grab the inside of my dress and pull it down as a repeat of the night before as I crawled back towards him, my knees sinking into the bed. “Just stay a little longer.” He didn’t need to say the words because I was already under his spell and waiting for him to touch more of me, but even then they were nice to hear. From someone who didn’t speak much and kept mostly to himself, anything was nice to hear from him. It felt like a privilege to speak to him or be spoken to by him. As pitiful as it might seem to the average person but his words made me feel like a person and not an object for him to pick up and set down whenever he was looking for a proper and quick play.

I didn’t want to think about any of that though, I didn’t want to think about being the ‘other woman’, feeling like an object, or the fact that whatever was going on between Zayn and I was less than temporary. “Okay.” The word was a wisp of air as I leaned forward and finally pressed my lips against his. All I wanted to think about was his hands on my waist and the way they traveled down and pulled on my dress, the way he hungrily took my lips in his and pressed his body against me. I wanted to wrap myself in Zayn and get tangled in the bed sheets.

And so, that’s _exactly_ what I did.

While Zayn laid me on my back as we switched positions and his hands quickly pulled my dress down my legs, I let myself forget how much I wanted to dislike him and how the right thing to do would have been to shake my head in refusal and finish my mid-morning walk of shame. My mind was nearly clear as my panties found their spot on Zayn’s floor once more and I could feel him working to push down his boxers. I let out a sharp gasp and allowed a smile to spread across my face as his lips traveled sloppily from mine and traveled down neck. The way he moved about me and let his fingers and lips explore my body could be described as lazy but yet, somehow I could feel how much he wanted me in the way he would quickly reposition himself against me or groan between wet kisses.

Somewhere during the kissing and pre-game heavy breathing, Zayn must have kicked off his boxers because his legs were now moving freely as he shimmied his way in between my legs and pushed them apart using his knees. I broke our kiss to quickly catch my breath and allow myself the opportunity to look over his features that were somehow delicate and rugged at the same time. My hands clawed gently at his back as my lower half began to tingle.

"Fuck me." I breathed, nearly begging him to do so.

A smug smile inched up his lips as he quickly leaned over and opened the near bedside table that sat on, what had been for the night, my side of the bed. My hands moved up and down his back as I watched his face, enjoying the look of concentration as he searched for a condom. Zayn’s eyes landed on mine when he found what he had been looking for and before I could utter a sound, his lips were smothering mine. We kissed and I felt him lift a few inches above me, his hands hurriedly moved to roll the condom down the tip of his hard dick. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes as my body ached for him. I wanted him and I wanted him now. I didn’t want him in a minute or any time pass this very moment. I was eager to have him in me and have him be mine— at least for now.

"Shit." Zayn grunted as another sharp gasp found its way past my lips.

He had already found his way in my tight entrance, slowing inching himself inside before he quickly let a thrust forward as if he had grown impatient in the matter of a split second.

Slow and steady had never really been his style anyways.

In a haze, I reached up and placed my hands in his hair but barely had time to try to lock his tresses in my fingers before his hands found my wrists and slammed them into the pillow with a soft thud, my arms stretched above my head. His pace was quick as he thrust upwards and hit just the right spot causing me to dig my heels into the bed and arch my back. I tried to bite down on my bottom lip before giving up and letting my loud moans drift away from mouth. My moans filled the room, mingling with the sounds of his grunts and hushed curses. I had always suspected that he liked how loud I was, not afraid to hold back and always willing to show him just how good he was but not over the top and clearly not giving up just another show.

"Zayn." The moan was loud and steady, shortly followed by hitched breathing and fluttering eyelids.

With a confident smile, Zayn let go of my wrists to position his hands on my waist. His grip was tight and allowed him to pull down on me with each thrust making my hips meet his with more force. His length filled me and made me whimper each time he pulled back only to satisfy me further with another hard thrust. My entire body was awake now and every inch wanted more of Zayn, wanted his mouth to cover every spot and for his fingers to caress every curve. 

I stifled a giggle with a moan when Zayn’s mouth found my sensitive nipple and flicked it with the tip of his tongue before taking it entirely in his mouth and sucking on it. A wet sucking sound was left behind along with a faint circle of spit around my areola when he removed his mouth and placed it on mine, choosing to suck on my bottom lip instead. I moaned against his mouth as he quickened his pace. Zayn pulled away from me and moved his hands to my tits, squeezing them and running his thumb over my nipples as he sat up straight, positioning himself to allow a better view of what was going on down under. As he moved his hips hard and quick, no doubt in preparation of finishing us both off, Zayn would alternate between looking at me with hungry eyes and looking back down to watch himself work on me, knowing with total confidence that he was the one making me tremble and cry out.

I was no longer hungover, I was no longer upset with myself, all I could think about was Zayn and what he was doing to me.

Seconds seemed to draw out into small eternities until Zayn was as deep as he could be and was moving like he was running out of time. I clenched around him as he shuddered, I gripped at the hair that sat at the nape of his neck as his fingers found the sheets, I moaned his name as he lost his breath and collapsed on top of me. A simple _“fuck”_ was all I had to offer as I felt my toes curl at the absence of him and the last remnants of my orgasm.

After he rolled off and away from me, I wanted to turn to Zayn and say something witty about how most wake-up calls were unwanted but as I saw him pull a cigarette from his pants that laid on the floor, I knew that it was time to slip back into the delicate understanding that we had.

It was kind of funny, how fast we could move and how much we could overlook.

"Shower’s over there." Zayn nodded towards the door on the opposite side of where I laid on the bed, the sheets damp beneath me with my pillow no longer supporting my head but haphazardly hanging off the mattress. "Clean towels are underneath the sink."

With his offering said, Zayn lit up his smoke and closed his eyes as he took a steady drag. I allowed myself enough time to finally catch my breath and let my body fall back down to Earth before I slid out of the bed in silence, gathered my things, and walked into the bathroom with the feeling of his eyes snaking around my naked body.

This was us and as much as I figured that we could ever be. We would meet either by some odd chance or careful planning, flirt a little, go off somewhere where we could be alone and give each other what was needed, and then part as if nothing had ever happened as soon as the final gasp dissipated into total silence. Even as the warm water from Zayn’s shower head fell and washed away as much of him as it could, I had to talk myself into believing that this was okay because when I finally built up enough courage to say a final goodbye or he severed our strange ties for good, seeing him on magazine covers and hearing his voice on the radio during long drives home wouldn’t seem as much like torture as it did now.

My skin shone red from the hot water and my wet hair stuck to the sides of my face but I didn’t care what I looked like, not even to Zayn Malik, as I emerged from the bathroom in last night’s outfit.

"Nice seeing you." I smiled, walking over to the bedroom door and placing a hand on the cool doorknob.

"Yeah." Zayn smiled back at me and sat up against the headboard of his bed. "Should I call you a cab?" He made no efforts to move but still held his smile as I raised a hand.

"No, I got it." I waved my hand as if to dismiss his small offer. "I called one up before I came out. They should be here soon. Thanks though." I opened the door and took a step towards it, still facing Zayn, and then opened my mouth to say something else before promptly closing it. I knew that there wasn’t anything else left to be said and that there wasn’t anything he wanted to hear.

"I’ll give you a call." I had already turned my back to him and was pushing myself through the threshold of his bedroom door but I didn’t have to see his face to tell that it was as empty as a promise as they came. Sure, he might call in a week or two but it wouldn’t be him. It would be one of his people, someone he paid enough to allow them to be happy with keeping our dirty little secret.

With nothing left to be said or done, I left. I walked through the still quietness of Zayn Malik’s house in the early afternoon light that spilled through large windows. I left him behind as I climbed in the backseat of a yellow cab and was taken away to continue the rest of my Sunday elsewhere. I didn’t know how to feel. I never did after leaving behind time spent with him but what I did know was that I would give anything in that moment to feel what it was like to not know the absence of him and the ache of something I could never have, to not have to care about him and what he was unknowingly doing to me.


End file.
